A Simple Action
by AcrossFandoms
Summary: It was such a simple action, yet it bound two people together.


Imrahil always desired to strengthen ties with Rohan. His plan: unite the House of Dol Amroth with the House of Eorl (aka, Rohan), thereby securing a strong relationship between the two countries. Upon the birth of his daughter, Lothíriel, he sent a messenger to Théoden-King and initiated the process. Three years later, they agreed that Éomer, Théoden's nephew, would eventually marry Lothíriel since Théodred was much too old for the girl.

By that time, Éomer and Éowyn had been orphaned for a year. Hoping that a change of scenery might help the siblings find peace in their sadness, Imrahil invited them to his home to stay for a month or so. It also provided a chance for Éomer to meet Lothíriel, who was then only three.

* * *

One of her earliest memories was of a boy with hair of gold and eyes of sorrow. She had just learned to brush hair and wanted to practice on someone. He let her try her brushing skills on his hair. She remembered that his hair was not exactly silky, but it was smooth. While fingering his tresses, she heard him crying softly.

"Why do you cry?" she asked, laying down her silver brush that was still a bit too big for her small hands.

He sniffled, "My mama used to brush my hair, but she doesn't anymore."

"Do you want me to stop?" she queried. "I don't want you to be sad."

"No, go on," he said. "It is good to remember."

* * *

It was long after the Battle of Pelennor was won. His sister was alive, thanks to Aragorn, and all the world was catching its breath in the lull before the storm. After his meeting with the self-dubbed 'Captains of the West,' he visited his sister, who commented that he smelled worse than horse dung. And so, he took advantage of the baths the Houses of Healing offered. However, there was a problem afterwards. His hair was worse than a rat's nest.

"Allow me, please," a gentle voice said as he struggled with the comb someone lent him.

Turning, he noticed a young woman in a stained apron. She held a silver brush in her hand. She was beautiful. Even in the stained apron and the drab gown, he saw the light of her heart shining through. He recognized her silvery blue eyes. Beneath the solemn glint that only came from seeing horrors, he knew that she retained the innocence of the three-year-old he met so long ago. Nodding his assent, he mumbled, "Thank you."

After a few moments, he asked, "How came you here, Lady Lothíriel?"

She paused, causing him to turn to face her. "How do you know my name?" she questioned.

"Only my mother and the girl who lived by the sea had brushed my hair."

She did not reply. Though he remained awake in body, his mind rested. Her gentle strokes soothed his inner fears and whispered hope to his heart. He would survive the war and see the world safe from the darkness. He would see his home restored to peace and prosperity. And by his side, he would have the raven-haired lady of the sea as his strength and life.

She braided his hair, finishing soon after. Before she left, Éomer rose and turned to her. "If I return, will you still be here?" he asked.

Facing the hallway, she stood in the doorway, her posture hesitant. Half-turning, she smiled softly, "Always."

* * *

He found her weeping in their bedchamber that night. Throughout the day, she stood bravely as they buried their first child, a stillborn little girl. She shed no tears at the grave, but her eyes, bearing, and mien showed sorrow deeper than words could describe.

Now, it was his turn to be strong. Taking her into his arms, he held her close. Her body trembled as she wept against his neck. The tears felt hot against his skin. When her tears subsided, he led her to a chair and found a brush.

As he brushed, he felt her relax. She whispered after a while, "Will everything be alright?"

"One day," he replied as he ran his hand through her long tresses.

* * *

Time turned his golden locks to silver. She thought it suited him, for autumn must become winter. And then came the time. All else was done. But there was one last thing she had to do. Picking up her silver brush of eight decades, she ran it through his hair. Memories flashed through her mind. With each stroke, a tear fell. Often, she paused to wipe her tears from his cold face.

Eventually, her work was done. Touching his cheek, she murmured between tears, "One day will become always. But until then, it is good to remember."

* * *

Author's note:

Hey, everyone! I hope you liked this. I originally meant for this to be part of a new project, but the plot bunny had other ideas. ;) So, I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, remembering to thank God for his blessings and provision!

Update May 2020 - Thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! It means a lot to me and encourages me to continue writing! Just so you know, I've expanded this story! It's titled "A Simple Action (expanded)" (yeah, I know, so original.) Again, thank you all for your support!


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